


Holding

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: D/s, Humor, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the best of doms have an off day.  Sequel to "Belonging" and "Keeping"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding

**Author's Note:**

> Third in the "Belonging" continuity; follows "Belonging" and "Keeping".

"Sure you want this, Mikey?"

Michael stared at the leather-studded collar for a moment. "If I didn't want it, I wouldn't have agreed to you buying it," Michael reminded him. Getting on his knees before Sam, he bowed his head and felt the leather slip into place about his neck.

"All right." Sam latched the back and took a step forward; Michael could . "You look good, slut." He ran the tip of his index finger down Michael's spine, drawing a shiver from him.

"I always look good." He was eye-level with Sam's semi-hard though jean-clad cock, thought you would have to be dead not to notice the hard-on his lover was sporting.

"Hey, no sassing Master Sam," Sam replied.

"You're not wearing the silver chain," Michael reminded him. "It's not officially playtime."

Sam grinned down at him. "Want it to be?"

Michael ran a finger across the leather-studded surface of the collar. "Maybe. What are you planning, Master?"

Sam gulped when he said the word, clearly enjoying the promise in it. "Conditioning. How about you suck me off while I'm on the phone?"

Michael's brow forked; that sounded positively vanilla compared to what they'd been doing. Then it dawned on him. "That thing that came in the mail for you this morning wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?"

Sam was across the room, taking off the gold chain, putting on the silver one, his grin wide. "Well...let me see..." He found the package on the bedstand and ripped it open. Plastic crinkled and as Michael stripped off his linen pants and thin cotton shirt, his sunglasses coming to rest atop them. He had lubed himself earlier in the afternoon sometime between shooting that gunrunner and jumping off the speedboat - he was still slippery, thankfully. When he turned back toward Sam, the older man was taking off his shirt and shoes, the silver chain in place.

"Knees, slut," he said. Michael got down in a kneeling position quickly, his head up and his eyes on Sam. The older man walked to the chair bare-chested, glistening with a light film of sweat and smirking confidently. He sat down in Michael's easy chair and pulled out his cell. "Crawl," he ordered, and Michael did, slowly, solemnly, as if he were approaching a holy statue to pay homage. "Lick," Sam ordered, and Michael dragged his tongue along Sam's hiking boot-clad feet. Sam wasn't cruel enough to make him clean the whole boot and tugged on the back of his collar. "Up." Michael moved upward on cue, rubbing his face against the older man's inner calf and thigh. He and Sam locked eyes briefly. "Close them." Michael obeyed, relying on his excellent hearing to tip him off to further requests. When he heard the familiar catch of metal through zipper he bit back a grin. And was predictably rewarded by the hot slap of Sam's cock against his face. "Don't use your hands," he said, and Michael leaned forward against the chair, driven by the clean, musky scent of Sam to take in the head of his cock. He was vaguely aware of the beep of Sam's cell phone, but all of his concentration rested on the hot, warm fullness in his mouth, his tongue running circles around the head before teasing the . He felt Sam's thighs tense before he heard him start talking.

Michael concentrated on the blowjob; the filling slide of Sam's cock, the musky smell and salty taste of his precum, on taming his gag reflex and sucking as hard on the shaft as he did the head. His rewards were Sam's hands on the back of his head, the involuntary thrust of his hips and the pitching of his breath. Michael knew how Sam liked to have his cock sucked, it was really that simple. Once Sam started twitching like a second pulsebeat in his throat, Michael knew he had won - he pulled back and concentrated on the head until Sam abruptly ended the call and bucked his hips. It took him four minutes of determined suction before Sam let out a defeated grunt and bucked upward, before the bittersweet flood of Sam's juices coated Michael's tongue and throat.

He was smart enough to keep his head down and in the submissive position until Sam told him he was 'dismissed', then he looked up. Sam's hair had been plastered to his face with sweat, and his grin was a crooked one.

"So," Michael said, standing up, "what's in the box?"

"A little treat for tonight. Remember that a couple of my buddies are coming over to play poker?"

"Yeah..." Michael remarked, not entirely sure if he trusted where Sam wanted to take this.

"Well, while you're under the table keeping me hard, you're gonna need something to keep you focused."

Michael shook his head. Typical Sam. "And what do I get out that?"

"Besides pleasing Master Sam?" Michael frowned at his insinuative tone of voice; they may be in love, and committed to boot, but he didn't need to make it sound that way. "You get to come any way you want to. My mouth, my ass, or my hand."

Michael bent his head for a kiss and felt Sam nibble and suck his wet lips before plunging his tongue inside his mouth. The kiss was hard and bittersweet, because they wouldn't go further for a few hours. "How about frottage?"

Sam pulled back and gave him a curious look. "Really?"

Michael smirked, reached for his pants. "Not really. But I wanted to see your face when I mentioned it."

"Uh-uh, sweetheart. This is about training. You don't get to come, not until I say." Sam stretched, then tucked his wilted cock back into his pants.

Michael shivered at the promise of his words, his balls aching as he reached for his boxers.

***

That night Sam hauled out a folding table and laid a flower-spangled plastic table cloth over it. Michael recognized it as belonging to his mother and felt a bemused rush of embarrassment. He helped Sam put out snacks, arrange the chips and cards, put out ashtrays and ice some beer before the silver chain came out.

Michael had been naked since they'd arrived back from dinner, had been wearing his anklet all day and the collar for hours. Seeing Sam put on the necklace made Michael's expression freeze into a mask of total concentration. Sam sat down in a folding chair and unzipped his jeans, spreading his knees.

"Down, slut," he ordered. "Close your eyes." Michael did as requested, and then crawled to his master. "Come on and lie over Master Sam's lap." Michael did as he asked, then felt the warm caress of Sam's bare hand on his ass. There were two quick, slinging slaps in concert before Sam dipped his index finger into Michael's ass. "Nice and wet, like a good slut should be." He pumped his finger in and out, adding a third and fourth before smacking Michael's ass again. "Ready for your new toy, baby?"

"Yes, Master Sam," Michael replied, his words muffled by the exterior of Sam's thigh. He felt something cool and blunt enter him, roughly the size of Sam's cock. By the time it slipped to the hilt within him he felt a faint vibration that made him buck and groan.

Then the damn thing started to spin.

"Quit!" The toy stopped moving and Michael glared up at Sam. "What is that?!"

Sam grinned and held up a remote control. "A buddy of mine works for Doc Johnson, and they've been looking for a few test subjects for their latest plug. I thought you would love trying it out."

"Yeah, no. Would you please warn me before you stuff a top up my ass?"

"Right. If it makes this any better, you look sexy." Michael leaned his head against Sam's inner arm and he started rubbing the back of his neck until Michael relaxed against him. "If it's no, I'll just get another of the remote vibes."  
Michael didn't even have to consider the alternative. "Start slow."

Sam nodded. "Back in?"

"Yep."

"What you're going to do tonight, slut, is keep me hard all night. If I come or get soft, so do you. " Sam rolled Michael off his knees and he landed at his feet. "Get under the table. Don't even think of coming out until I tell you."

Michael had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking. This was the sort of challenge he adored, the kind he could - so to speak - sink his teeth into. By the time Sam welcomed his friends into the loft and set them down with at round of beers, the plug was at a slow, mildly-arousing buzz within Michael's ass, and when Sam faked yawn and snuck a hand down to unzip his jeans, Michael came forward and took his cock out of pants and boxers and into his mouth, sucking him from semi-soft to hard.

It was a mildly arousing, mildly comfortable, mildly painful night for Michael. The tease of the plug kept him half-hard, but sitting there bareass naked on a concrete floor kept him from full erection. Sam, meanwhile, was bone hard, but Michael knew how to keep him on the verge for a couple of hours thanks to experience - Sam's free hand kept sneaking under the table to squeeze the folding chair. This must have been a fantasy for him. Well, Michael was happy to oblige, at least until his jaw got sore. When it did, Sam relaxed, seeming almost grateful at his leaving off. Michael let his mind wander. For a minute he considered unsnapping the fly of the man sitting nearest Sam and sucking his cock, too, but Michael knew the behavior of navy men well, and they didn't cotton to well to being ambushed, even by accommodating mouths. Sam increased or decreased the spin, thrust, or vibration of the plug to illustrate how much or little he wanted Michael's touch at that moment.

Michael lived for Sam's cock, on good days. But on a night like this, he put himself in mental monologue mode to amuse himself. _The key to sucking a man to the point of orgasm without letting him come is paying attention to his body language. If he's tense and his fingers are white-knuckled, it's a good hint that he's trying not to come. Back off and kiss his balls, or tease him with your breath. Avoid sending him over the invisible line to happy-land and he'll be putty in your hands for hours._

Sam finally reached his limit four hours and three beers into the game. His knee brushed Michael's nose as he pulled his cock out of his mouth and painfully stuff his hard-on back in his jeans (those loose Hawaiian shirts of his really did cover a multitude of sins). He listened to the sound of the door sliding closed and locking, and had to mask another smartass grin when Sam dragged him out by one of the o-rings attached to his collar.

An inobservant man would think Sam was coming down with a fever - his eyes were dreamy and overheated, his lips a single solid flat line, and his cheeks tinged red. Michael knew Sam was aroused to the point of desperation.

"Good job, slut. Suck me 'til I come." It took Michael five minutes to get Sam off, and when he did Sam actually called out and buckled forward into his touch. Sam yanked his cock out of Michael's mouth and came in a stream all over his best friend's face.

Michael leaned back, letting Sam rub his prick over his lips and cheeks, flicking his tongue against the underside of it and making Sam cringe in sensitivity. Michael didn't notice as he gloried in his submission...until a dollop of semen somehow got in one of his eyes. The stinging sensation made him jerk away. "Quit!" he called out, rubbing his forearm against his eyes.

Sam was beside him in a minute, cleaning his eyes with a wadded up tissue. "Sorry, Mikey."

Michael finally remembered he could use his hands again and rubbed the tissue across his face, "I'm fine."

"You're dismissed, anyway," Sam declared. He tried to pick Michael up, but he was too heavy for Sam to hoist; they slipped to the floor together, which scared a laugh out of Sam so sharp that Michael winced.

"Yeah...let's walk to the bed." Even half-blind, Michael could do that. Sam helped him there, and brought him to rest on the sheet. Michael unclasped the collar while Sam headed to the bathroom; he gave it a glance, shrugged, and put it aside - he liked the anklet more than the obvious trappings of submission.

To his surprise, Sam returned with a bowl of warm water and a terrycloth bathcloth. He let Sam rinse him from head to toe and pat his skin dry. And only then did he open his eyes to see Sam watching him tenderly.

"I still owe you some Sammy time," he remarked, stripping himself nude and slipping into bed.

"Mmm," Michael remarked, nibbling Sam's lower lip as he came closer.

"Well well well," Sam said, his big hand tracing down the front of Michael's body. "Where I should start?" His hand wrapped around Michael's dick, drawing a groan from the younger man. Soon, Sam was kissing his way down Michael's body, his stubble leaving an erotic, pale red trail down his body.

Michael tucked his fingers into Sam's shaggy hair, groaning and stroking and touching what flesh he could reach. Sam's sloppy but enthusiastic blowjob made him sweat, made him groan, made him call out; Michael cradled Sam's head as he eagerly pleasured him. Just before he came, Sam turned the vibe up from a low him to a sharp vibration, sucking Michael over the edge and into orgasm.

Sam helped him pull the toy free of his ass and set it aside. Turning back toward his lover, Sam wrapped an arm around Michael. "Did you like your toy?"

"It was cute," Michael remarked, resting in the cradle of Sam's arms. With his typical finesse, he reached between Sam's legs and teased his now-limp cock. "But I like the real thing better," he declared said, serenely, and rested his head on Sam's chest.


End file.
